


The Change

by FindingSchmomo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Blood, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Vampires, ushijima was clearly a rice farmer back in the day, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8138069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingSchmomo/pseuds/FindingSchmomo
Summary: And it's in that moment, as Oikawa desperately licks up every last drop of blood that Iwaizumi realizes how real this all is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i have written and rewritten this dumb little oneshot over five times for the past six months and im so over it
> 
> so just take it i dont even care anymore

It’s their last high school practice match ever.

And they lose.

But they leave the gym laughing, curled up around each other, breathless. A part of Iwaizumi feels bad, for the joy he gets from reliving the scene in his head. But the other half of him sees it as divine retribution. He can tell Oikawa feels no inkling of regret, face bright and full of glee.

“You still have blood all over you!” Hanamaki comments beside him, grinning regardless. Oikawa looks down at his stained jersey, blood speckled around the top and sprinkled onto his teal number 1. Iwaizumi notices a few spots on his cheek and licks his finger to wipe it off. Oikawa giggles and shrugs him off, wiping his own face with the back of his hand.

“What matters is, it’s not mine.” Oikawa points out gleefully, brown eyes bright as he ascends the steps of the bus awaiting to take them home.

Aoba Johsai had just lost its last practice match against Shiratorizawa. Until the bitter end they remain losers. But it is a night of celebration. In the last set, Oikawa had managed to accidentally spike Ushijima Wakatoshi in theface. To Oikawa’s credit, Ushijima had been shoved by a stumbling teammate into the line of fire, so how could he have known?

Once the coach had made sure the star ace hadn’t broken anything, he sent Ushijima to the locker room to wash off the blood streaming from his nose. Much to Oikawa’s displeasure, and the rest of his team’s chagrin, he had been sent right after him by their own coach to deal with the trouble he had caused.

But knowing Ushijima was fine made the whole incident hilarious in the end. The surprise in Ushijima’s eyes, the way he tensed up as if he had no idea what had just occurred to him, as if he couldn’t compute the possibility of minor injury befalling him. The feeling of perfect revenge that coursed through the veins of the entire Seijoh team. It seemed like a beautiful ending to their high school careers.

If they couldn’t win, they could at least have this.

But, Iwa-chan thinks bitterly, as he steps onto the bus after his teammates, it reminds him that this _is_ the end. The end of everything he’s ever known, and the start of something knew. It fills him with the same sinking anxiety, mild but ever present, making its presence known with every hint of graduation, every email from his new university, every glance at Oikawa’s distancing form.

Change was something Iwaizumi never appreciated.

Routine was his manifesto. His life had always been built on pillars of tradition, and expectation. And even though befriending a boy like Oikawa had led him to all kinds of mischief and surprise, his presence was it’s own form of routine. No matter what happened, Oikawa would be beside him.

But even that may change, Iwaizumi’s mind reminds him as he takes a seat, because the two of them are heading off on different paths, different majors, different _universities_. Change, change, and more change. It prickles at Iwaizumi skin as he thinks of the void of the future, unknowing but inevitable.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa interrupts his inner thoughts as they sit side by side on the bus. Iwaizumi lifts his head up, instead of leaving it resting against the glass, “Can I sleepover tonight?”

“Hmm?” Iwaizumi mumbles, steering his mind away from the future to the present, to now, to Oikawa. “Sure. My parents aren’t home, but I don’t think they’d mind”

Oikawa grins at the victory, for reasons beyond his best friend. Ever since Oikawa had moved in across the street from Iwaizumi when they were just learning to walk, the pair had slept over at each other’s homes as frequently as possible. Their parents never knew which home would have two boys and which would have none on any given night.

Iwaizumi rests his head back on the window pane sleepily, but the endless rattle of the bus shakes his brain. He groans, twisting his neck to crack it before leaning onto Oikawa’s shoulder. The brunette whines at that, not necessarily from the action, but because it causes his earbud to slip out of his ear. He slips it back in with little ceremony, before resting his own head atop Iwaizumi’s.

Iwaizumi looks up at Oikawa’s soft smile as he listens to his music--a bit louder than he should be. He thinks about their recent match, about graduation, about the future and squeezes his eyes shut, pressing himself a little closer to his friend, his first friend, his _best_ friend. Because he would never want that to change.

* * *

Iwaizumi isn’t sure why he wakes up in the middle of the night. The room, as his eyes become accustomed to the dark, is exactly as he left it. His door is closed, his laptop sits on his desk, his action figures remain standing in their prescribed places.

Beside him, Oikawa is still sleeping, perfectly still, so it wasn’t as if his best friend had kicked him accidentally into wakefulness--which, granted was his first thought, because Oikawa’s feet have a tendency to wrestle him out of shared beds. But no, Oikawa is behaving for once. And yet there is something in the air, something electric that puts Iwaizumi on edge. He bites his lip. 

The feeling only gets worse, and when Oikawa makes a soft muffled gasp beside him he almost jumps. He looks over, finding his bedmate still perfectly asleep. Or at least, his eyes are tightly closed. Iwaizumi leans down to look at him, squinting in the darkness. Oikawa’s mouth is parted, letting out another strangled gasp, before gritting his teeth, eyebrows drawn together.

Iwaizumi frowns. He doesn’t usually watch Oikawa sleep, but this can’t be normal. Is he having a nightmare?

“Oikawa?” He asks, softly, no more than a whisper.

He rests his hand against his friend’s forehead and his eyes widen. It’s damp with sweat and fiery hot, scorching even. He draws his hand away, his heart starting to accelerate within his chest. Something was definitely wrong.

“Oikawa?” He repeats, louder, shaking the teen for good measure. Oikawa’s entire body is hot, and he’s drenched in sweat, and Iwaizumi can see, now that he’s _really_ looking, that the brunet isn’t still at all. He’s trembling all over. His body shakes in his grasp, his teeth gritted tight as quick breaths escape through the gaps between them.

Suddenly the fact that Iwaizumi’s parents aren’t home for the weekend doesn’t seem so appealing.

Nausea swirls in his stomach, hands clammy, sweat building up on his own forehead as his mind starts racing.

“Oikawa? Wake up.” He insists, louder than before, shaking the boy harder, “You’re scaring me.”

And suddenly Oikawa’s brown eyes fly open, and his back is arching, mouth falling open and letting out a strangled inhuman noise. Iwaizumi pulls back in shock as Oikawa’s body contorts, his hands fisting at the sheets around him.

“Tooru?!” Iwaizumi shouts, terrified, as his best friend writhes in pain before him. Another strangled scream is ripped from Oikawa’s lips, and then even that is taken from him. Just as suddenly as he woke, he falls back onto the bed, limp.

Iwaizumi takes in a breath, moving back to his best friend. His incredibly _still_ best friend. Iwaizumi hesitates a moment before reaching out, touching Oikawa’s forehead once more. It’s cold. Ice cold. As if all the warmth left him in that last hoarse cry.

Iwaizumi’s heart thunders in his chest, “O-Oikawa?” He croaks, and he’s honestly shaking himself now, tears brimming at his eyes without his permission. He’s scared. Terrified. Uncertain.

And then his body is rushing without him, darting to Oikawa’s side ripping the sheets off him and laying his head against his icy, cold chest. He swallows, trying to focus, trying to hear Oikawa’s heart beat. Trying. Trying. _Trying._

There’s nothing.

Silence.

“No.” Iwaizumi hisses, bringing his head back to bunch up Oikawa’s pajama shirt, as if the flimsy fabric was enough to muffle the faint life beat. He rests his head again, shivering, and searches out the tell tale sound.

Silence.

Iwaizumi is shaking.

“No.” He whispers again, lifting his head to look at Oikawa’s face. The brunet’s head has lolled to the side. His eyes are closed. His lips just barely parted. Iwaizumi puts a hand on his cheek--cold, cold, _impossibly_ cold. He starts tapping at Oikawa’s face, softly at first, growing rougher and rougher until he ends up smacking the unresponsive teen.

“This isn’t funny, Oi-Oikawa.” Iwaizumi hisses, voice raw, and he can feel the tears escaping their confines, dripping down his face. His hands move down to grip Oikawa’s shoulders, shaking him, hard, “Wake _up_!”

Oikawa is limp in his arms, and his weight brings him down.

And Iwaizumi can’t believe this is happening. Because it can’t be. It _can’t_. Oikawa is only seventeen years old. They just had their last high school match today. Their high school graduation is in a few weeks. They have university in a few months. They have their whole lives to---

This can not be real.

Iwaizumi slaps himself, for good measure, surprisingly hard, and he hisses, rubbing his face. He feels like he’s choking on reality, and he’s choking on his own spit, that seems to have gathered in his mouth. Nausea rises in his stomach, acid burning up his throat. He shakes Oikawa again, pleadingly, and he can’t help the sob that escapes his mouth when his friend, his _best_ friend remains motionless beneath him.

He takes in a ragged breath, gagging, and he realizes he needs to _do_ something. He needs to get _help_. What is he doing wasting time? He scrambles off the bed, falling down because his legs are tangled in the sheets. He curses, tremors running through his fingers making him incapable of the simple task of unraveling his measly bonds. He gropes for his phone sitting on the desk, shakily swiping it open, trying to ignore the picture of him and Oikawa that is his background (smiling, happy, _alive_ ).

His hand is shaking so hard, and his eyes won’t stop leaking, making the world a blurry incomprehensible place.

He’s about to press the call button for emergency services when he hears a gasp.

He freezes, looking back toward the bed.

He _swears_ he sees Oikawa twitch.

He stands up, sheets falling to the ground. He clutches the phone tightly, taking a closer look, “Oikawa?” He rasps, raw, desperate, _pleading._

Oikawa sits up slowly, and Iwaizumi wants to cry, but he already is. He watches as a his friend groggily comes to consciousness before his wet eyes. He drops the phone to the floor and rushes over, barreling into him and wrapping his arms around him. He squeezes as tight as he can, as if Oikawa might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t. He feels the incredibly urge to kiss him, but he holds back, because those are feelings and conversations he’s tucked away and labeled for future him to deal with.

“You scared the _shit_ out of me you asshole.” Iwaizumi laughs, sniffling, and laughing and laughing as he releases the tension from his body. But it’s as he does so that he understands how stiff Oikawa is pressed against him. How silent. He pauses, quieting himself down.

Oikawa’s fingers dig into the back of Iwaizumi’s pajama shirt. And then they break right through the fabric, nails pressing into the skin of his back, _deep_. Iwaizumi jerks back instinctively at the sharp feeling, eyes wide in disbelief.

Oikawa’s movements seem sluggish, and the sudden flinch from Iwaizumi has him lose his grip. Iwaizumi is able to scramble backward, staring at his best friend.

Oikawa’s eyes are distant but narrow, and they give off an unnatural shine. He’s hunched over and, Iwaizumi realizes, Oikawa still hasn’t said _anything_. Iwaizumi’s heart hammers in his chest.

Oikawa lifts up his hand, eyes sharpening on the red little dots on his fingernails. _Blood_ , Iwaizumi realizes, _my blood_. Oikawa darts his tongue out, lapping at the dripping liquid, and his pupils shrink to little slits.

Suddenly they lock eyes, the air electric once more, and theres a shiver that runs down Iwaizumi’s spine. He has never been more afraid. Because he doesn’t recognize Oikawa in those strange eyes.

Iwaizumi stops thinking then, letting his gut take over his movements. He dives off the bed, as if for a volleyball, just as Oikawa pounces at him. He barely misses the leg of his desk as he rushes to stand up, looking around his room for some sort of escape.

Oikawa isn’t as careful, and he seems to be unsure of his movements and power, because he slams right into the desk when leaps after him. Iwaizumi’s figures and papers and laptop cascade to the floor, a minefield between him and the door to the hallway.

He moves to climb over the bed instead but Oikawa is _faster_ , incredibly faster, on him in a second, hand gripping his ankle and sending him down onto the floor. Iwaizumi lets out another shout, as his back slams onto his wood floor, shoulder digging into the spiky tail of his Godzilla model.

He can barely think about that, because Oikawa is pulling him towards him with surprising strength. Iwaizumi swings his arm around, grabbing the offending figure and brandishing it like a weapon, sitting up to slam it into Oikawa’s upper arm. Oikawa keens, retracting his grip and Iwaizumi is able to back away again.

He’s completely disoriented, however, and he miscalculates his steps. He slips on one of his notebooks, falling backwards into his closet. Banging his head hard on the floor. He’s winded, and it’s dark, and his heart is so loud in his ears.

Above him he can see the outline of his clothes racks on either side of him. The poles rest on little slabs jutting out of the walls. His clothes hang from them, like curtains, framing him.

He lets out another cry as Oikawa slams onto him, caging him between his arms and pinning his legs down with his own.

Iwaizumi does his best to struggle and Oikawa lets out a snarl that is so _inhuman_ that Iwaizumi freezes up, eyes wide. He can’t stop his ragged, short, terrified breaths.

He swallows, and Oikawa’s eyes follow the movement, focusing on his neck. His mouth opens, and Iwaizumi catches sight of sharp, _too sharp_ , teeth.

 _He’s going to bite me,_ Iwaizumi thinks.

He looks around again desperately and in that split second he reaches his arms out wide, grabbing as many of his hanging clothes in each hand and pulls, _hard_.

Oikawa lets out a surprised screech when the bars and clothes come crashing down on him from above. In the confusion, Iwaizumi is able to overpower him, shoving him off. He stands up, off balance, but perpetually moving, falling out of the closet. He swivels around and slams the door shut behind him.

But he can’t rest yet, back pressed against the door, because his closet _doesn’t lock_. He looks around his room for anything, _anything_. His eyes fall on his desk chair, knocked over from the struggle. He stretches his foot out, trying to hook it somehow without leaving his post.

He can hear Oikawa through the door, hissing.

Iwaizumi finally manages to bring the chair close enough to grab. He pulls it over, turning away from the door to jam it under the knob. With that temporary defense he’s able to run over to his heavy wooden nightstand, dragging it over with a grunt. He kicks the chair away, but before Iwaizumi can shove the nightstand over, the door pushes open.

Iwaizumi launches himself to close it, watching Oikawa screech as his arm is caught in the opening, retracting it quickly. In that moment of respite, Iwaizumi is able to push the nightstand across the door.

He sits on it for added protection, back pressed against the door. He can feel Oikawa hitting against the door behind him, snarling and screeching, but the nightstand doesn’t budge. Still, Iwaizumi remains on high alert until he can’t feel Oikawa’s attempts of escape through the door any longer.

He lets out a breath then, finding his entire body shaking, sweat stinging at his eyes and his bangs plastered to his forehead. He brings his legs up, curling his arms around them, letting out a sob he’s been holding in for far too long.

Iwaizumi doesn’t even have the energy to think about what has just happened. All he does is cry, until his body succumbs to sleep.

* * *

Iwaizumi wakes up, groggy, before suddenly becoming hyper alert to his surroundings. He practically jumps from his perch on the nightstand, looking around bleary eyed at the disaster of his room. His desk has fallen over, his figures and notebooks are scattered all over the floor. The sheets are tangled on the floor, and there are scratches on the wooden boards from where he pushed the nightstand across the room. He swallows and tries not to think about how his parents will react when they return tomorrow.

He takes a deep breath, sitting up on his knees and turning his body so he’s facing the closet door, remaining on the nightstand.He rests his ear against the wood, hearing nothing.

He takes a deep breath, “Oikawa?”

Silence.

“Oikawa?” He asks again, louder. His voice cracks slightly at the edges, “Oikawa, please answer me.” The image of Oikawa, cold and still in his bed flashes in his mind. The memory of the absolute terror that had seized him makes his heart stutter in his chest once more.

He wants to open the door, he wants to check on his best friend and make sure he’s alright, that he’s breathing, and warm, and _himself_ , but the burn from the scratches on his back keeps him from crossing that barrier.

It’s soft, shaky, weak, but through the crack of the door he can barely make out the whimper, “Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi presses closer against the door, fingers digging at the wood, “Oikawa? Oikawa is that really you?”

He can hear faint shuffling, as if Oikawa is getting up off the ground. And then he hears a thump, and his shoulders raise instinctively, fearfully, “Oikawa?”

Oikawa lets out a soft groan, “I tripped.” He murmurs, and his voice is so quiet, like he can’t bear to make it any louder.

Iwaizumi licks his dry, cracked lips, “Oikawa, what’s going on?” _Why did you attack me?_

There’s no response for a long while. Iwaizumi waits, unsure what to do with himself. But finally, _finally_ Oikawa speaks up, “Iw-Iwa-chan, I’m _scared_.”

There’s a crack in Oikawa’s watery words, and Iwaizumi can’t bear to hear it, wiping at his own face in that same moment, “It’s going to be ok.” He hisses. He swallows, trying to keep calm, “If I open the door can you, can you control yourself?”

He’s met with another long silence, as if Oikawa really needs to think before answering, “I think. I think so. I feel more like, like myself.” Oikawa responds slowly, picking his words carefully, “And, I can’t stand up on my own.”

Iwaizumi hesitates, still, “When I get you out of there, can I tie your hands up with the sheets?”

“Ok.” Oikawa consents, “I won’t move.”

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath, hopping off the nightstand. Before he moves it, he rummages his floor for his big Godzilla model, remembering how he’d used it before. Having it in his hands makes him feel safer.

He pushes the nightstand back to its place and carefully cracks the door open. It’s pitch dark within, so Iwaizumi widens the door, letting the morning light from his bedroom windows seep in.

He finds Oikawa curled up in a pile of his fallen clothes, staring at him, wide eyed and terrified. Iwaizumi wants to hug him. Feels compelled to. But the terror from before locks his legs in place.

“Can you stand?” Iwaizumi asks, and Oikawa shakes his head. Iwaizumi slowly walks over to him, minding the mess and reaches out his hand. Oikawa takes it and his skin is icy in Iwaizumi’s palm, his grip is awfully weak.

Iwaizumi pulls him up and Oikawa almost stumbles into him, but he manages to stay on his feet. Iwaizumi frowns, leading him carefully out of the closet. Oikawa squints and shrinks back from the sudden light in his eyes, so Iwaizumi pauses to let him adjust to the change.

But...he doesn’t.

Iwaizumi bites his lip, “Wait here.” He orders, stepping away, he squares himself before turning his back on Oikawa to close his shades. The room returns to darkness, and he flips his light switch on. Oikawa unsquints his eyes, but doesn’t budge from his spot.

“Sit down.” Iwaizumi orders, motioning towards his bed. Oikawa does as he’s told, watching as Iwaizumi grabs his bed sheets from the ground. Oikawa squeezes his hands into weak little fists and prepares himself. But Iwaizumi only drapes the covers over Oikawa’s frail frame.

Oikawa stares at him, watching as he rights up his desk chair and sits down directly in front of him.

“Aren’t you going to tie me up?” Oikawa asks.

Iwaizumi shakes his head, focusing on not showing his fear, “I trust you.”

The words take a moment to sink in. But soon, Oikawa is covering his face with his hands, shoulders quaking, shaking his head, “You _shouldn’t_.” He sobs, and Iwaizumi lets him cry, looking to the side, trying not to do the same. _Failing_ not to do the same. But he’s quick to wipe his face with his arm as the tears come down, never letting them make a big impact.

They stay like that, together, yet apart, for a long while. Until Oikawa’s able to quiet himself down to just a few ragged intakes of breath, shoulders only trembling with every one he takes. He finally removes his hands from his face, wiping at his eyes and looking up at Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi begins, “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know! I went to bed, and then, something hurt, awful in my chest and then there was nothing. And then I woke up and you were there but I couldn’t. I. It was like I could only watch. Like something else was moving and oh _God_ , Iwa-chan, I’m so sorry.”

Iwaizumi waves him off, because he’s already forgiven him for anything that happened. He’s only concerned now. Because Oikawa, now that he can look at him, _really_ look at him, looks _awful_. His skin is incredibly pale, almost sickly. His eyes are dim and sunken in, large bags piling on underneath. His skin is ice and he has little to no strength as he moves.

Oikawa lifts up a hand, to brush away his bangs, and even that simple movement has his arm shaking with effort. But Iwaizumi doesn’t pay attention to that, darting his own hand out to clasp around Oikawa’s wrist, making the other teen stiffen.

“What happened?” Iwaizumi says again, focusing on Oikawa’s nails. They’ve been bitten down to the skin, they look awful, enough to skeeve even Iwaizumi off. It’s not a habit Oikawa’s ever had. He would know.

Oikawa looks away, “I...” He starts again, “I’m so _hungry_ , Iwa-chan.” He whispers, not meeting his gaze, “And it was all, it was all there was and...”

Iwaizumi realizes, with a horrible drop in his stomach ,that Oikawa had been trying to get to the little flecks of blood, _his_ blood, trapped beneath his nails. He swallows, “Oikawa,”

“Please, don’t get so close to me.” Oikawa pleads, hoarsely, and Iwaizumi hadn’t even realized he was leaning forward. He drops Oikawa’s hand, sitting back in his chair, frowning. Oikawa keeps talking, “Iwa-chan, I think I’m...”

They both don’t want to say it. Because it’s too absurd a statement to say.

So they don’t.

“...and...” Oikawa continues instead, “and... God, Iwa-chan, your heartbeat is _so_ loud.” He huffs, digging his chewed up fingers into the sheets beside him.

Iwaizumi stands up, “You’re hungry?” He repeats, slowly, “Then, I’ll... I’ll...get you something to eat.” Like any other morning when Oikawa had slept over. Like everything is fine even though _nothing_ is.

Oikawa stares at him, “No, Iwa-chan, you don’t under...I don’t want...”

“I know.” Iwaizumi says sternly, and Oikawa sees the resolve in his green eyes and swallows, unable to hold the gaze, “I know.”

Oikawa doesn’t say anything as Iwaizumi leaves to go downstairs to the kitchen.

When Iwaizumi reaches the kitchen he rests his hands on the cold granite counter and tries to even his shaky breathing. For some reason he thought, once he talked to Oikawa, it would all come out as some stupid joke. That everything was fine and they could go about their day like normal. But nothing was fine, nothing could ever be fine again.

He leans over, pressing his forehead to the cold granite, in hopes it will clear his mind. He needs to steel himself for what he’s decided to do.

He straightens up again, letting out another breath and opening his fridge. He pours himself a glass of water, chugging it down. He pours another, sipping this one more slowly. And then he takes out a second cup and thinks about how he’s going to do this.

There’s no way he’s letting Oikawa bite him.

Not when they know nothing. Who knows what this is. Or how contagious it is, or how Oikawa even got it to begin with. But Iwaizumi isn’t one for taking chances.

He plucks one of his knives from the drawer, biting his lip now that he’s got it in his grip.

Oikawa needs to eat. He looks awful. On death’s doorway. And Iwaizumi had already seen his best friend die once, he would do everything he could to never to see it happen again.

He squeezes his eyes shut, slashing his forearm in one clean, swift cut. He hisses out a curse at the sting, almost dropping the knife. He places it down on the counter and grabs the cup, moving to the sink. He holds the cup below the cut, watching the blood drip into it as it beads out.

The sight makes him a bit queazy, but he keeps at it. He squeezes his own arm to get more out, but he’s not sure how much Oikawa needs, or how much he can even offer him.

When his cut stops giving, he stops trying, putting the cup down on the counter. He looks into the cup and frowns. There’s not much, just enough that the viscous liquid is able to circle around the glass as it moves. He debates cutting himself again and decides to just try with this amount for now.

He digs around his cupboards for some bandaids, dressing up his wound. He washes the knife before he forgets and then starts marching up the stairs.

Oikawa hasn’t budge from his spot on the bed, but his head shoots up as he enters the room, eyes locking on the bandage on his arm. There’s a sudden fear in Iwaizumi’s heart, that Oikawa is going to attack him again. But the teen remains incredibly still. Watching. Waiting.

Iwaizumi holds out the cup to him and Oikawa’s hand darts for it, taking the cup and bringing it to his lips with a sudden ravenous energy that makes Iwaizumi keep his distance, watchful and weary.

And it's in that moment, as Oikawa desperately licks up every last drop of blood that Iwaizumi realizes how _real_ this all is.

* * *

“Ok, we need to figure out how this happened.” Iwaizumi announces, sitting crosslegged on his floor. Oikawa looks better, more awake, less fidgety. But he still doesn’t look himself. Iwaizumi has a suspicion he’s still hungry, but he doesn’t want to ask. He’s scared of the answer. The wound on his arm still stings.

Oikawa doesn’t say anything about it.

Iwaizumi trusts him.

Oikawa sits across from him, long legs drawn up, arms wrapped around them. He frowns as he thinks, eyes squinting with the effort he takes to think.

“Has anyone tried to bite you recently?” Iwaizumi prompts.

“Iwa-chan, if anyone tried to bite me you would be the _first_ to know.” Oikawa replies easily with a roll of his eyes. He pushes his bangs back, returning his expression to a pensive frown, “The only thing...The only thing I can think of...”

“Yeah?”

“Yesterday,” Oikawa begins, falters, licks his lips and starts again, “Yesterday, I got sprinkled with Ushiwaka-chan’s blood.”

Iwaizumi swallows. He does remember _that_. But it’s so absurd. It’s all so absurd. He looks away, but from the corner of his eye he can see Oikawa playing with his cup still, fingers fidgeting to find anymore of the blood once inside it.

Iwaizumi tries to ignore this.

Oikawa stands up suddenly, Iwaizumi flinches, looking up at him quickly. Oikawa looks regretful for his sudden movements, freezing up, biting his lip. He had only stood up to pace, a habit he’s always had.

“Iwa-chan,” He starts, “I can’t go home tonight.”

Iwaizumi nods, without question, “Stay.”

Oikawa looks conflicted at that, nibbling at his teeth, sharp canines flashing in the artificial light, “But...” He falters, looking at Iwaizumi briefly before glancing away, “Promise me, you’ll lock me in the closet again. Just...Just in case.”

It kills Iwaizumi. It kills him inside, stabbing at his heart, ripping at his insides, to see Oikawa so horribly terrified and sad. Because he wants to hold him and tell him _he’s here_ , _he’s staying_ but he can’t bring himself to move. Because the fear is still so potent in his mind. So instead, he looks to the ground, fist tightening at his side.

“I promise.”

* * *

“But does my hair look ok?” Oikawa asks, again, for the seventh time.

Iwaizumi sighs, “It does, trust me. You look fine.”

“Iwa-chan, you have to be honest. You’re my mirror from now on.” Oikawa presses.

Iwaizumi frowns, pushing a stray strand of brown back into place. “You look fine.” He repeats.

“I don’t want to look fine.” Oikawa snaps, “I want to look _irresistible_.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “I can’t work miracles.”

Oikawa lets out a whine and it almost feels like it’s a normal Monday morning. Like everything’s fine. If it weren’t for the fact they’re standing in an alley, around the midpoint between home and school, and Oikawa’s tying a band tight around Iwaizumi upper arm.

“You gotta look away, alright.” Iwaizumi reminds.

“I know, I know.” Oikawa nods, “I’m in control.” He adds, more for himself then Iwaizumi. But then he stops, fidgeting with the ends of the tie, “But you don’t, you don’t have to--“

“ _Oikawa_.” Iwaizumi says firmly, glancing to the open end of the alley.

Oikawa lets go, swallows and turns away. He walks a few paces to look out at the street, clutching his umbrella tightly in his fingers, making sure he’s out of the sun’s cruel reach.

Iwaizumi bites his lip, and with little ceremony sticks the syringe into his arm, taking out enough blood to fill it. He’d managed to get a few disposal syringes at the local drug store, making up a story about his ailing grandmother. It was a temporary fix, until they could get more answers. Continuously cutting his arm just wasn’t feasible in the long run.

He unties the tie, pocketing it. He empties out the syringe into a little bottle, watching it fill up halfway. The sight still makes him a bit queasy so he doesn’t dwell on it, capping it and throwing the used syringe into the dumpster. Before he turns to Oikawa he sticks a bandaid over the pinprick on his arm, just in case.

He walks over to Oikawa, passing over the vial, “Will this hold you over?

“I think so.” Oikawa says, taking the vial carefully, eyes focused on it unnaturally, “I’ll wait until lunch time. To drink it. I think I can last until then.”

“Don’t push yourself,” Iwaizumi warns, picking his book bag back up, “We don’t want you attacking anyone.”

Oikawa’s smile is somber. He doesn’t respond as he puts the vial into a little ziplock bag and pockets it to keep it close. Iwaizumi turns to step out into the light again, to continue their journey to school. He’s stopped though, when he feels Oikawa wrap his arms around him from behind. Tugging him close.

Iwaizumi tenses, especially with Oikawa’s face buried in his neck, but he calms himself down. _Trust him. You have to trust him_. He leans his head back into the embrace, questioningly.

Oikawa just squeezes him, and the message is clear. _Thank you_. _I’m so sorry, but thank you._

Oikawa releases him after a second, and they don’t talk about it. They just walk to school, Oikawa careful with his umbrella, and Iwaizumi still tingling from the fading warmth surrounding him, hotter than the cruel sun’s rays, despite Oikawa’s icy skin.

By the time lunch time rolls around, Oikawa is a wreck. He’s incredibly fidgety, and his skin looks almost translucent. People send him weary looks, girls look openly worried, whispering amongst each other, and Oikawa tries to force on a smile, but it looks like even that might tear his face apart.

Iwaizumi manages to drag him up to the roof, away from everyone, and into a corner, “Hurry up, and drink it.” He orders, worriedly, keeping his eyes peeled in case anyone interrupts them.

Oikawa doesn’t need to be told twice, now that he is out of sight of prying eyes. He swallows down the red liquid in one desperate gulp. Iwaizumi watches, a little nauseous, but focused. He notices how ravenously Oikawa tries to drink the liquid, and the clear disappointment and misery in his eyes when he’s done so quickly.

Oikawa doesn’t say it isn’t enough, but it’s clear to Iwaizumi that this isn’t going to work. Oikawa needs more to sustain himself. He’s only been given mouthfuls twice a day, and it’s taking it’s toll. The cruel memory flashes in his mind again, Oikawa limp, heavy in his arms.

Iwaizumi wonder if he can give Oikawa some more blood right now, but he doesn’t know if that’s healthy. He doesn’t know enough about anything to make smart decisions.

“We’re skipping practice today.” Iwaizumi decides, keeping his gaze firm and in control, “We’re going straight to Shiratorizawa.”

* * *

The bus ride to Shiratorizawa is quiet. Oikawa looks exhausted, despite barely doing anything for the past few hours. He leans his head against Iwaizumi’s shoulder out of habit, but he immediately sits up. Iwaizumi looks over at him confused, as Oikawa drags his hands along his face, shaking, and taking some calming breaths.

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi murmurs, brows furrowing.

“Just, give me a minute.” He whispers, covering his ears once more and closing his eyes.

Iwaizumi lets him be, staring out the window as his stomach seems to crumple and twist in guilt. Maybe he could give him more. Just a little more. Anything to make Oikawa’s suffering lessen.

But he’s _scared_.

Oikawa hisses as he steps off the bus, quickly opening his umbrella to hide in it’s pleasant shade. Iwaizumi’s heart beats a bit faster, frowning deeply, “You gotta be more careful.”

Oikawa sighs, “I’m fine, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t press, mostly because he can’t imagine the stress and fear wrestling in the pits of Oikawa’s own stomach. He doesn’t want to add to it. But he’s so hyper aware of Oikawa’s state, hyper aware of anything and everything that could hurt him that he can’t help it. He can’t lose him. He just can’t.

Not again.

At least the sun will set soon, Iwaizumi thinks.

They make their way through the gates of Shiratorizawa, finding the school bustling with activity. Many agricultural students are tending to the fields, other athletes are running laps. Iwaizumi and Oikawa do their best to remain unnoticed, although, Oikawa’s umbrella makes them a bit conspicuous.

As they near the gym, Iwaizumi feels Oikawa tense up beside him and stop in his tracks.

“Oikawa?” He questions, but before he can get any other words in, the doors to the gym part open and Ushijima Wakatoshi makes his way out.

The building has an overhead that juts out, casting the man in deep shadow. Iwaizumi sees from the corner of his eye Oikawa take a step back, something he’s _never_ seen when Oikawa confronts his rival. The sight makes him steel himself, ready to defend.

Ushijima is looking at them critically, his frown deep.

“How long?” He asks, pointedly.

Iwaizumi blinks.

Oikawa doesn’t seem fazed, “Since Saturday.”

Ushijima uncrosses his arms, stepping down the steps, and standing just by the edge of the shadow, “My deepest apologies.” He sighs, “I believe this is my fault.”

Something strikes in Iwaizumi then. Maybe its the admission. Maybe its the fact that Ushijima had the audacity to say _sorry_ , as if a sorry would change anything. As if a sorry would return Oikawa to his former glory, would save him.

As if sorry was worth _anything_.

Iwaizumi realizes, belatedly that he’s slammed Ushijima against the wall, snarling, “How _could_ you!?” He shoves him harder, pulling him down by the collar of his sports uniform to try to lower him to his height, “You did this? I had to watch him _die_ because of you!”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cries out, and Iwaizumi can feel him trying to pull him away, but the teen is too weak to do much, fingers barely able to get a purchase on him. Part of Iwaizumi is grateful, because it lets him continue his assault. But most of him is furious, that Oikawa is that weak, because of Ushijima.

Ushijima seems to have enough at this point, straightening himself up and shoving Iwaizumi off like he was just a pesky fly in his peripheral. Iwaizumi tumbles back, falling into Oikawa, both of them crashing onto the ground.

Oikawa shrieks and Iwaizumi is quick to shove him into the shadows again. He can’t believe how light Oikawa is to his touch but he doesn’t dwell on it, standing himself up. He sends Ushijima a hate filled glare.

Ushijima is ignoring him, eyes trained on Oikawa, who is struggling to get up on shaky arms. Ushijima reaches down to help him up, much to Oikawa’s bitter annoyance.

Ushijima frowns, and Oikawa is prepared for an insult, gears working in his mind to come up with a witty comeback. But the insult never comes, “You have incredible self-control, Oikawa.”

Oikawa hides his shock as best he can, “Gee, thanks Ushiwaka-chan, if only I could say the same for you.”

Ushijima looks away, letting go of him. Oikawa stumbles at the lack of support, but Iwaizumi is there to catch him, keeping him up.

“If you want answers, follow me.” Ushijima orders, turning around to enter the gym.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa both look at each other. They don’t have a choice at this point.

Iwaizumi lets Oikawa lean on him as they walk a few steps behind Ushijima through the gym into the connecting building. Oikawa is tense beside him, focused on Ushijima’s back. Iwaizumi tries not to think about it. About anything.

Ushijima leads them inside an academic building, into the first unlocked classroom. It’s long been abandoned since the final bell rang hours ago. Ushijima flicks on the artificial light, standing behind the teacher’s desk, large and imposing.

Iwaizumi helps Oikawa into one of the empty desk, watching as he all but falls into it, weakly. He stays standing, eyes glaring at Ushijima who remains quiet.

“Well?” Oikawa snaps from his seat.

Ushijima lets out a sigh, gathering his thoughts. Iwaizumi takes the time to take him in then. His pale skin, strong build, piercing gaze. There had always been something unnerving about his rival, but he could never have imagined...

“I don’t understand how any of this is happening.” Iwaizumi begins. The words rush out of him, mind still grappling with the reality of it all, of _Oikawa_.

“Perhaps because it has nothing to do with you.” Ushijima comments back easily, and it hits hard, making Iwaizumi grit his teeth.

“Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa starts, tone icy, “If you don’t start explaining I’ll have your body roasted in the morning light.”

Ushijima seems unperturbed by the threat, mostly because Oikawa can barely sit up properly on his own, but he decides to talk regardless, “Again, I apologize for this occurring. It was never my intent. I have always been careful. But I concede this is my fault.I shall take full responsibility.”

Iwaizumi can feel the repulsion from Oikawa, hitting him in waves, from the phrasing of his statement.

“And what, Ushiwaka-chan, does that _mean_?” Oikawa spits out, his smile blistering.

Ushijima remains unfazed by it all, “I will take you under my wing. I will help you understand everything that is happening to you, everything that will happen to you. Do not worry. I will teach you all that I know.”

Oikawa looks furious, “I don’t want to know any of that!” He shouts, “I want you to _fix_ this!”

Ushijma’s expression almost softens, hard lines not so pronounced, but his voice remains deep and emotionless as ever, “I am sorry, but there is no returning from the afterlife.”

Oikawa visibly wilts in his chair, holding his face in his hands, shoulders quaking, so Iwaizumi steps forward, eyes hard.

“How long have you been like this?” He asks.

“A vampire?” Ushijima clarifies, saying the word Iwaizumi and Oikawa had refused to speak all this time with familiar ease, “For centuries.”

Iwaizumi is taken aback by it, keeping closer to Oikawa out of habit. _Centuries_ , Iwaizumi repeats, in his head. Immortality. He thinks, and he glances to Oikawa, sees all the time the world has given him now.

So much of it he won’t be able to follow.

Something seizes in Iwaizumi’s heart, a sharp pain that pierces into his core. Thinking of the hundreds of years Oikawa would spend without him until the memory of him is long forgotten. He doesn’t want that.

 _I want to be by your side_.

Ushijima is looking at him critically, and he seems to grasp a bit of his racing thoughts, “It does not mean we are immortal. I am just careful.” He explains, “There are many things that could destroy us.”

Iwaizumi looks at him, mouth thinning, “Tell us.” _I have to protect him_.

“The sun.” Ushijima starts, listing threats off on his fingers, “Stake through the heart, decapitation, holy water, garlic,” He pauses, leveling a particularly fierce look on Oikawa’s sagging form, “Starvation.”

Iwaizumi swallows, straightening himself up with a new sense of conviction, “How much does he need? To make him better?”

Ushijima looks at him then, really looks at him, piercing eyes raking over his form slowly. Iwaizumi’s gut wants him to shrink back from the predatory gaze, but he holds his ground. Ushijima’s gaze lingers on his neck before finally climbing back to his eyes.

“The first meal is critical.” He begins, “When one turns, they wake up starving. Oikawa’s control is admirable, but it will kill him.”

Oikawa stands up, suddenly, “What does it matter!? I’m already dead!” He seethes, “Nothing even matters anymore! I can’t do anything anymore, I can’t--I can’t even take selfies!” He cries, and his voice quakes as it reverberates through his throat. His words almost seem like a joke, but the emotion is too raw to be treated as anything but tragic.

“Oikawa, you must feed.” Ushijima says firmly.

“I don’t have to do _anything_.” Oikawa hisses right back.

Iwaizumi steps in, “What do you do, Ushijima?”

Ushijima blinks, reminded of Iwaizumi’s presence, “I feed on the livestock here. It’s easier, less suspicious, and there is enough animals here that I can take a little from each to sustain myself easily. But,” He adds, looking over at Oikawa, “In his current malnourished state, Oikawa would have to drain three cows dry to be satiated. I will not allow you to feed on my animals.”

“So you want me to drain three _people_ dry, instead?” Oikawa spits, disgusted.

“Human blood is much richer in nutrients for us. You would only need to feed from one person.” Ushijma points out matter of factly.

Iwaizumi cuts in before Oikawa can speak, “And, what happens, to the person?”

Ushijima shrugs, “As long as you do not take too much, the human will simply feel dizzy and weak for a few hours. Rest, time and a nourishing meal will be enough to replenish them.”

“They won’t...turn?” Iwaizumi continues, because he has to be certain. Absolutely certain.

Ushijima nods, “One can only turn by ingesting the blood of a vampire. Oikawa must have done so during our practice match.”

Oikawa looks like he wants to gag, sick to his stomach at the very thought.

“Alright then,” Iwaizumi nods, slipping his school blazer off, “Then it’s fine then.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen, “No! Iwa-chan, _no_.”

Iwaizumi ignores him, continuing to unbutton his school shirt, peeling the fabric back to reveal his pristine neck. He looks over at Ushijima, “Could you give us a moment?”

Ushijima seems actually hesitant, eyes moving from Iwaizumi’s neck to his face, back to Oikawa’s weak form. He frowns, but nods, making his way to the classroom door. Then he stops, adding, “Iwaizumi,” It’s the first time he’s said his name, and Iwaizumi stiffens, listening, “If you need help, shout, and I will get you.”

He closes the door.

Iwaizumi looks over at Oikawa expectantly.

Oikawa refuses to look at him.

Iwaizumi sighs, “Oikawa, you need to eat.”

“Why?” Oikawa hisses, keeping his gaze on the ground, “I’m _dead_.”

“You’re not dead. You’re breathing, you’re standing, you’re right here!”

“But I’m dead, Iwa-chan. There’s nothing more for me now.”

“Don’t say that! Don’t talk like that!” Iwaizumi steps forward, “You don’t know what you’re saying!”

“And you _do_?” Oikawa snarls ferociously, “How could you possibly know how I’m feeling?”

“I saw you!” Iwaizumi shouts, “I saw you _die_. I held your lifeless body to my chest and I cried for you, you _asshole_. I know what it means for you to be dead, I saw it, and you are _not_ dead now!”

Oikawa says nothing, biting his lip.

“And I refuse to see you die again.” Iwaizumi hisses.

There are tears slipping down Oikawa’s face, and he keeps shaking his head, “I...I don’t want to _hurt you_.”

Iwaizumi smiles, despite it all, “You won’t.”

“I’m scared.” Oikawa murmurs, pleadingly, refusing to look up.

“I trust you.” Iwaizumi insists, wiping his tear away with his thumb, “Plus, Ushiwaka’s right outside anyway.”

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa whimpers, leaning into his touch, “I don’t...I don’t want to be like this.”

Iwaizumi sighs, pulling the teen in for a hug, “I know, but...it is what is.” He decides, “Things change. We’re graduating. We’re going to different school. You’re-“

“How is this supposed to make me feel any better?” Oikawa whines, fingers tightening around him.

“ _Because_ ,” Iwaizumi continues, annoyed at being interrupted, “No matter what, I’m sticking by you.”

Oikawa breathes in a shaky breath, “You promise?”

“I promise.” Iwaizumi murmurs, pulling back to look into Oikawa’s pale, sickly, tear stained face. And he wants to kiss him, despite it all. Eyes searching, face moving closer, but he hesitates, stopping himself, “But you gotta keep living for me to do that.”

Oikawa swallows, “Are you sure, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks again, “I can, I can find someone else--“

“It’s always been my job to clean up your messes.” Iwaizumi smiles, something glinting in his eyes. Oikawa can’t help the tug on his lips too. Iwaizumi’s missed it, “What happened to you being the most selfish man on the planet?”

Oikawa snorts, squeezing Iwaizumi again, for good measure.

Iwaizumi pulls away, leaning his back against the wall, tilting his head up and to the side, “Alright.” He says, reddening a little at the entire scenario he’s found himself in.

Oikawa stands over him, hunched, mesmerized, and his pupils seem to widen, locking on the skin of Iwaizumi’s neck. He takes a step forward, closing the gap between them and nestles his face into the crook of Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

Iwaizumi lifts his arms, wrapping them around Oikawa’s form. Oikawa’s hot breath tickles at his neck, sending a sudden shiver down his spine. His fangs graze against the skin, and Iwaizumi’s fingers dig instinctively into Oikawa’s back. He squeezes his eyes shut in anticipation.

Oikawa bites down, hard, his fangs sinking in deep with ease. Iwaizumi gasps, body tensing as pain floods his senses. He grips Oikawa tighter, his legs going weak as he’s given no respite. He can hear a sudden feral growl reverberate from Oikawa’s chest, as he pulls his mouth up to start lapping up at the blood spilling down Iwaizumi’s shoulder and it almost _tickles_.

But then Oikawa wraps his mouth around the wound and _sucks_. Iwaizumi lets out another gasp, fingers digging into Oikawa for purchase as his legs fail him. But Oikawa’s arms wrap around him, holding him up easily with new found strength.

Oikawa never relents in his assault, his actions fast and desperate. He drinks ferociously, as if he had been starved all his life. His tongue darts out, digging into the wound, making Iwaizumi shudder.But soon, Iwaizumi realizes it’s becoming too much. His fingertips feel cold and when he blinks his eyes open, the black haze coating the edges grows bigger and bigger.

He opens his mouth to shout, for help, for Ushijima, for anyone. Hemanages a strangled whimper, eyes rolling back, grip loosening completely until the only reason he remains upright is Oikawa’s tight grip on him. But he does manage to whisper, pleadingly, _“No more_ , _Tooru_.”

Iwaizumi is jolted when he is dropped to the ground, letting out another groan as he crumples there, to weak to move any part of him. His eyes open into slits, catching Oikawa’s blood soaked form staring at him in utter fear. He’s shouting, he can tell, screaming something, but Iwaizumi’s ears are muffled in his haze.

His vision blurs again, grainy, and he lets out another pained noise. He can’t lift his head, and the coldness of the tile floor seeps into his body, turning his limbs to ice. Still, he opens his eyes again, his small circle of vision able to catch Ushijima’s face close to his, looking at him with a frown.

His eyes close again, and he’s _so tired_ , and his cold body feels something even colder taking hold of him. Squeezing him. He opens his eyes again, vision practically gray, seeing Oikawa’s hair close to his face, and Ushijima’s body crouched further away. He’’s saying something.

Something Iwaizumi can just barely make out.

And then the world finally goes dark.

* * *

“Oikawa, _breathe_.”

* * *

Iwaizumi remembers, blearily, opening his eyes to see Oikawa’s back, bright lights, loud noises. He remembers the cold metal of a bench against his limp arms at his sides. He remembers Oikawa speaking, turned away. But Iwaizumi remembers the longing most of all, the sudden need to reach out and touch him, to bring him close.

_I’m dizzy. I’m weak._

_I need you_.

Iwaizumi wakes up, slowly, in a bed. He lets out a groan, blinking his eyes as the room comes into focus. He realizes very quickly he’s in Oikawa’s bedroom. The familiar clutter of textbooks, volleyballs, and DvDs lining the far wall. The awards displayed proudly on a shelf. The glow in the dark stars littering his ceiling.

Oikawa appears in his vision, face close, eyes flecked with worry, “Iwa-chan?” He asks, and its so soft, and Iwaizumi can’t help the smile that blossoms on his own face. He’s drowsy, so he doesn’t think to swallow it down.

Oikawa’s eyes widen further, mouth parting almost in awe. Iwaizumi finds it amusing, but he doesn’t focus on it. He lets his eyes dance along Oikawa’s face, taking in every detail. His skin is bright, slightly flushed. His lips red and full. There’s a healthy glow about him, his features no longer muted and sickly.

Iwaizumi feels his heart soar, and he can’t stop himself from mumbling, “You look _beautiful_.”

Oikawa swallows, eyebrows furrowing, eyes searching, “Iwa-chan? Are you alright?”

Iwaizumi laughs, a bark of a noise, and he trembles as more overtake him. But he can’t help it, because its the tension of the past few days, the horrible anxiety finally shedding off of him. Oikawa blinks, but soon he descends into his own giggles, throwing himself onto his best friend, wrapping his arms around him.

Iwaizumi takes his own heavy arms, sliding them around Oikawa’s body, pressing his shaking form close. They roll back and forth together on the bed, legs tangling, laughter consuming them until they’re gasping for breath and red in the face.

“Oh, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa gasps between breaths, pulling his face back enough to look at him, but close enough for their noses to brush, “I’m so glad you’re ok.”

Iwaizumi lifts his arms to swipe Oikawa’s bangs out of the way. He doesn’t remove his fingers after, instead they sink into the soft brown locks. Oikawa leans his head against them, almost nuzzling them in his glee. Iwaizumi smiles again, soft and warm, “I’m so glad _you’re_ ok.”

Oikawa grins at him, bright and childish, and Iwaizumi can see the sharp points of his new, longer canines, and something burns in his heart. Because Oikawa _is_ ok, but he’s different now. Changed.

And Iwaizumi thinks, maybe, he needs to change too, to keep up with him.

He licks his lips, closes his eyes, and leans forward, pressing a tentative kiss against Oikawa’s smile, something he’s longed to do for weeks, months, _years_. There’s a moment’s hesitancy before Oikawa kisses back, slowly, thoroughly. There is nothing rushed about it. No heated passion, no sudden frenzy. No, this is deliberate, deep, and they both know _exactly_ what they’re doing.

Oikawa lets out a sigh, arms slipping to wrap around Iwaizumi’s neck. They graze against the bandages on Iwaizumi’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine that feels electrifying. Iwaizumi’s hand digs into Oikawa’s hair, and their kiss deepens with a shared hum.

Iwaizumi isn’t sure how long he kisses Oikawa, in his lazy, content mood. But at some point, Oikawa finally pulls away, eyes hooded, smile serene. And Iwaizumi longs to kiss him more, it burns in him, hotter than anything he’s ever known.

“Ushiwaka-chan says you need to eat.” Oikawa replies, slipping away and grabbing his lap desk from the floor and handing it to Iwaizumi who sits up in turn. He places the cushioned side on his lap, peering up at Oikawa curiously.

“Since when did you start listening to Ushiwaka?” Iwaizumi comments, but obediently waits for whatever Oikawa has prepared for him--though he prays he hasn’t thought to cook something himself. Although, his mood is so high he might humor his best friend and his terrible culinary skills.

“It’s important to observe your rival in every way.” Oikawa clips out his reply matter of factly, “And...in this case...”

“You _should_ listen to what he has to say.” Iwaizumi decides with a firm nod.

Oikawa nods, frowning, “It’s cruel that fate has played me like this.” He whines, dramatically, “To have to listen to Ushiwaka-chan drone on and on about proper technique, and having to _listen.”_ He sticks his tongue out to punctuate his disgust. Iwaizumi snorts and Oikawa looks at him with a smirk, “But luckily, Iwa-chan has decided to stick with me forever and ever, so it’s no big deal!”

“Who ever said anything about this forever crap?” Iwaizumi snaps.

“Iwa-chan kissed me.” Oikawa tuts, “Cementing our love for the next hundred years, at least.”

“That’s not how that works.” Iwaizumi teases, face flushing slightly. But it’s true he thinks. If not the kiss, than the words from before. _I’m not going anywhere_.

Oikawa pouts, “Well, if Iwa-chan’s going to be a butt about it, then I guess he can’t have any of this agedashi tofu I _lovingly_ bought for him while carrying him home.”

Iwaizumi visibly perks up, “You got me agedashi tofu?” Oikawa plops the takeout bag in Iwaizumi’s lap. Iwaizumi practically rips open the package, eyes sparkling at the sight of his favorite dish. His stomach rumbles, “Holy shit,” He breathes, “I fucking love you.”

Oikawa cackles, “I always knew _that_.”

**Author's Note:**

> idk how i feel about it still
> 
> it was driving me insane how much ive been playing with the past few months so i decided to post it to end my misery
> 
> still i hope some people enjoy it!!!


End file.
